Umbre
by Esherymack
Summary: It seemed like no matter what Allen Walker did, Umbre facility just wasn't gonna get outta his life. In fact, he'd just end up going right back to it. AU, parental Crossen in the future.
1. Welcome to Umbre Corporation

A/N: Sweet mother of God, here I go again: Crazy in literature format. You must all think I've bloody lost it. Well, let me tell you, I lost it a long time ago. Very long time ago. Sixth-grade long time ago. To put that in perspective, I'm a freshman in high school now.

So here I go again, giving you another thing to wait for. I really am glad for all of the patience that I get from my readers, and actually, as soon as I finish this, I'm going to update "A Year", "Chimera", "Iudicium," "Vampire," "Downfall," and perhaps then write some drabbles. Also, this is a modern tale; it takes place in our time period. And it involves genetic disorders/testing.

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man, just the plot. Katsura Hoshino takes all credit.

* * *

Chapter 1—Welcome to Umbre Corporation

August 17, 1993

* * *

As Doctor Marian Cross entered the stainless-steel-and-marble hallway of Umbre Corporation, an electronic voice spoke around him: _"Welcome to Umbre Corporation. Please be aware of any and all safety measures put in place. For the welfare of our research, please refrain from disturbing any scientists or doctors at work…"_

_Just what I need to start the week off, the same-old same-old pre-recorded message, _Cross thought to himself. _It's the same deal every day. _

Just as he situated himself in his seat before the elaborate PC setup, he was interrupted by a scientist higher on the work hierarchy entering the office and tossing a paper down onto the desk. "Cross, the boss wants to see you. Says he's got some government officials here to talk to you." The scientist then left, coffee in hand, and Cross rubbed his head and wondered why in the hell the government would want to speak with him. He then got up, and navigated the traffic in the hallway—mail-room interns, doctors, scientists, some men in suits, and a few visiting college students—to reach his supervisor's office.

* * *

Head Supervisor Komui was not an impressive-looking man. He was Chinese, with purply-black hair and dark eyes, usually covered by his prescription lenses. He always wore white and a matching beret, and he was incredibly short—he stood a mere five-foot-two, and was easily towered by Cross's lofty six feet.

"Doctor Cross! There you are. There are some men here from the CIA—they keep requesting to speak to you, and won't even look at me. They're sort of freaking me out. Anyways, they say it's urgent, so I sugg—"

"Supervisor, I understand you feel like talking, but it's eight in the morning, I've got some work to do, and I really am not in a good mood for talking today. Please… just shut up."

The supervisor shut up at Cross's request. "Now then. Those officials? What did they want?"

Komui shook his head and grabbed Cross's arm. "This way," he instructed. Cross rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be dragged. The smaller man was surprisingly strong, besides—Cross didn't think he could escape Komui's grasp even if he tried.

There were two important-looking men standing in Komui's office. One was bald; the other had short black hair. They both didn't look up as Komui dragged Cross in; they simply slid a single paper across the table. "We need you to sign this contract of confidentiality; this is delicate information we're going to share with you. Should you not comply with the terms on the contract, we will be forced to take action and eliminate you to prevent you from threatening national security." Cross arched an eyebrow, picked up the paper, and began reading from the top. Komui tried to peer at the paper over his elbow, and Cross simply held it a bit higher.

The agent on the left pulled a pen from his pocket; Cross shook his head and retrieved his own from his lab coat. He signed the paper at the bottom and handed it back to the men, now with confusion in his eerily red eyes.

"Now then. As you know, Umbre Corporation is in close competition with another genetic corporation, Nova Corporation, to complete the Human Genome Project. Recently, however, on a CIA-based inspection of the Nova facility, we discovered their test subjects—they were using genetically modified human DNA to test. This DNA was monitored closely, as well as the four test subjects that they used—human test subjects. As you know, the testing of genetics and like sciences is forbidden on humans and is reinforced to the farthest extent of the law, not only for ethical reasons, but for the sake of the society in which the government protects. As a result of this revelation, Nova Corporation has been shut down and their four test subjects taken into custody."

Cross simply stared blankly. "What does this have to do with me, exactly? And just how does it threaten national security?"

"We're getting to that. If other countries knew that we had corporations running genetic tests on humans, their beliefs of the ethical system may lead to conflict. These test subjects were all in critical physical condition when taken in. Nova was working on discovering the genetic mutations that caused hundreds of different genetic disorders; they were testing them on these subjects. While they have all been stabilized, they are in need of immediate genetic fingerprinting, identification, and gene therapy to attempt to help them to recover and grow into normally functioning human beings."

"Wait. They're not grown yet?"

"Yes; according to our physicians, they're all under the age of one year."

"Jesus. Why would Nova try something like this?"

The CIA agent on the right spoke this time. "You know how companies can act. They want the fame, and the fortune, and the name of being the company who discovered the entire human genome. They want to be the ones who cured Huntington's, cancer, PKU, hemophilia… you name it. They were willing to try anything. They went so far as to break the law, and now they've got no right to any of it. We have transferred the research and results of various tests to the property of Umbre Corporation, and your team and colleagues are to resume their daily business of pulling apart the genetic code. You, on the other hand, are going to be taking charge of one of the four Nova subjects. Komui will be taking another; as will Doctors Bookman and Tiedoll. Bookman and Tiedoll have already been briefed on the situation; they're on their way to the CIA headquarters. I suggest you both join them; they're going to be waiting for you before anything can happen. Your job is to ensure that whichever Nova subject you are given custody of lives properly in the facility housing center, and receives proper care in terms of gene therapy and social contact. We expect you will be able to handle this task, Doctor Cross?"

Cross stared for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I believe so. Thank you, Agents…?"

"Crawford and Beuxarton. And honestly, do keep this conversation a secret. Act as if it never happened." (A/N: It's Bo-are-ton. I felt the need to spell it fancy-like)

* * *

The single block between the CIA headquarters and the enormous Umbre Facilty was as busy as the fifteenth story where Cross's office was located. It took Cross a full half hour to make it from one parking lot to the other; Bookman and Tiedoll were waiting impatiently when Cross and Komui exited the silver Mazda. "About damn time," Bookman grumbled. Out of all of them, Bookman was the oldest, and was smaller even than Komui. He also strongly believed that as a senior member of Umbre, he deserved to be the head supervisor, rather than the twenty-eight-year-old college prodigy that was Komui Lee.

The CIA building was plain and filled with even more important-looking people. Everyone wore some sort of solid black suit, dark shades, and expensive looking shoes. Cross looked down at his own white lab coat and brown loafers, and felt like the giant elephant in the middle of the room. A few other agents looked up, muttered something to each other, and directed the four scientists into a dimly lit room. Inside, there were several other agents and a total of five physicians. _I think I've had enough CIA for a long while,_ was all Cross could think.

The one physician who wasn't doing anything looked up. "Ah, about time. I am Doctor Renner (A/N: Yes, the guy from "A Year"), and I'm the head physician here. I've heard a lot about all of your reputations as geneticists. I honestly do hope that you can all help save the lives of these children."

Cross frowned. "Where exactly _are _the Nova experiments?"

"Ah… they're all over here. My team has been keeping an eye on them; they've been stabilized, but they're young, and therefore could relapse very quickly, with lethal results. I believe they've all got at least one severe genetic problem, and possibly more. I, of course, am no expert, though. On the offhand, these children will require special treatment for a majority of their childhood, possibly through their teenage years, and there is a chance through adulthood. I was brought to believe that they would be taken care of by you four and housed in the Umbre Facility, yes?"

"Yes, that is what we were told. It would help if we could see them," Tiedoll said quickly. Cross shot him a sideways glare.

Renner seemed slightly taken aback by Tiedoll's sharp tone, but shrugged it off and replied with, "Follow me."

Further in the room, where the four other physicians were, there were four of the smallest children Cross had ever seen. The agents from earlier in the day hadn't been kidding; they couldn't have been more than a year old. One had bright red hair, and seemed to be lacking an eye. Two were of Asian descent; one was a girl, and shared the similar sharp features and tinted black hair of Komui. The other was simply possessing stark black hair. The fourth was by far the smallest; there was a partially healed cut over one side of his face, and his hair was silver-white.

Komui sidled up beside Cross. "Jeez. Cross, y'notice anything obvious about them yet?" Tiedoll and Bookman both looked up at Komui's comment; before they both leaned down to examine the babies before them as well.

"The boy with the cut and the white hair is most likely albino. That's all I can tell, though."

Renner appeared behind them again. "You can all take your pick of which you're assigned to," he said brightly. _This guy… he's too bubbly,_ Cross thought to himself.

Bookman's eyes fell on the redheaded boy. "I will take charge of this one," he said, pointing to clarify his choice. Renner nodded, and wrote something on his clipboard.

Tiedoll made his choice next. "The Asian boy will be mine," he stated in his blunt manner.

Komui looked at Cross questioningly. "You first, or me?" Cross simply shrugged in an 'I don't care' manner, and Komui straightened. "I'll take the girl," he said. This left Cross with the white-haired boy.

"I believe it's obvious who will belong to me," Cross said to Renner. Renner nodded, and continued writing on his clipboard.

Renner finished writing something, tapped the board with his pen, and dropped both the pen and the clipboard onto a nearby table. "Very well, they will be brought to Umbre Facility for you later this afternoon. Until then, continue with your daily schedules."

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap. _Cross's pen kept resounding off of the glass surface of his desk. He was impatient, and his eyes were sore from staring at line after line of G's, A's, T's, and C's.

It'd been three hours since his morning meeting and sudden new job. _Definitely not a normal Monday,_ and indeed, it was not.

There was a knock on the door. Cross looked up into Bookman's wrinkled face. "They're here, in the living facility. You ready?" the old man said quickly. Cross nodded and gladly closed the folder in front of him.

"Let's go," he said. Bookman smirked and led the way to Umbre's extensive living facilities. That part of the building was underground, hiding under the fifteen aboveground stories that were visible to the average person.

* * *

Down this far beneath the Earth, the air was heavily filtered and the lights were very bright. There were windows that showed off a false view of a fake city, and the walkways were partially carpeted, and partially made of tile. Hundreds of doors lined the wide hallways, and over half of Umbre's faculty and staff lived within the very building. Cross was the only one in the group of four who did not live within the building.

He instantly was able to spot Renner. The man's sense of importance made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst those with lab coats and scrubs on. The blond doctor gave him a broad smile and a cheery hello. _Still too bubbly. I don't like this guy, _Cross thought

"Doctor Cross!" the man said warmly. Cross's eye twitched. He was never a 'warm' person.

"Yes… that's me…" Cross said between his teeth. This guy really got on his nerves.

"Come, come, this way! Nova Subject 04 is waiting."

_Okay. That doesn't sit right. Someone shouldn't be _named _as "Subject."_

_ Name… name… think of a name…_

"Call him Allen," Cross said in response. _Wait. What? Where did that come from?_

Renner nodded. "Allen, then. Allen is awaiting. Don't fail him, Cross." With that, he clapped Cross on the back and walked down the hallway, to where Tiedoll was standing.

Cross opened the door of the room. The room beyond the door was somewhat lab-like. There were computers scattered over several desks, and there was a stainless steel lab table in the middle. There was a partition, and beyond that lay what looked like an ordinary bedroom.

One of the physicians from earlier stood with Nova Subject 04—now Allen—in his arms. He looked up, confirmed it was Cross, and gently, but quickly, handed the infant to the towering doctor before hurrying away.

Cross gawked at the door for a sparse moment before he turned his attention to the infant in his arms. The boy was still asleep.

Cross ran a hand over the soft white skin of his face. _Definitely albinism. I'm wondering where he got that cut, though._

Cross set the boy down on the too-large steel table. He withdrew a syringe from a marked drawer. Slowly, he took a small sample of blood, sealing the wound left behind with a bandage. He then mixed half of the sample with the nearby detergent and withdrew the genetic material left behind by spooling it on a sample rod. The other half was to be set aside for the gel electrophoresis. He then placed the sample under a microscope and began to sort out the chromosomes.

The giemsa that he usually used to stain the chromosomes was absent from the small lab. He settled for simply staring long and hard at the various lines that filled his vision.

He set the microscope to send the results to the photo printer in his office. He then returned to Allen, still in a catatonic state on the table. He wasn't at all sure what he had to do; he'd never been good with kids in the first place.

_I guess I'll figure it out later,_ he thought. He set the kid down on the bed—which looked utterly ridiculous, really—and made sure the lab was shut down properly before exiting.

* * *

-Time Lapse: Six years. Present date: October 9, 1999-

* * *

"Allen! Time to get up!" There was an incessant knocking at the door. Allen cracked an eye and stared through the glass partition at the door to his room.

"Al-len! You in there?" Now _that_ Allen recognized. It was Lavi, one of the other kids who lived in Umbre.

The small, pale boy padded over to the door. The tiles beneath his feet were cold, and made his toes want to curl inwards. He pulled on the shiny doorknob, frowning when it stuck, and gave it a sharp twist to the right.

The door swung open, efficiently hitting him in the nose. A bit of blood dribbled out of his nostrils. Allen glared with his pale eyes at the bouncing redhead in front of him.

"Lavi! Cross isn't even here yet! Why are you here?"

The boy shrugged. "I was bored, and the panda-doc was taking _forever_ to get here."

Allen quickly grabbed the bridge of his nose. "Dude, your nose is bleeding," Lavi warned.

Allen gave him a sharp glare before digging his hand into a nearby cabinet. He pulled out a tissue, which was promptly stuffed into the bleeding orifice. Lavi chuckled a bit.

"What! It's not so funny when you could _die _from a nosebleed!"

Oh, yeah. On top of being albino, Allen had hemophilia. These were the results of meticulous genetic fingerprinting on Cross's part.

Lavi, on the other hand, was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis and was colourblind in his one good eye. The other two children—Kanda and Lenalee—had their own share of problems. Kanda had muscular dystrophy; he never got around much out of his room. Lenalee, on the other hand, had shown signs of carrying Huntington's, and was closely monitored.

Each of the children had always wondered where they came from. Allen somehow knew it was not, by any means, the 'normal procedure'; Cross wouldn't ever say anything but 'it's complicated,' and Tiedoll never really showed his face. Lenalee was usually with Komui up on the fifteenth story of the building, and that left Bookman, who never really spoke to Allen.

This, obviously, left too much to mystery to trouble themselves over it.

* * *

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand we're done! Chapter one! Seven pages! Hours of research! And it's not even that good!

Egads. I'm tired.


	2. Welcome to Umbre Corporation 2

A Note:

I am aware that the description has changed XD I changed it because this story took what I like to call an 'unexpected change of events at the pen point.' So I changed the description. Think of the last chapter and the next as a very long, two-part prologue to the real story.

-Eve, aka Selfish Writer

* * *

A/N: Part 2 of the prologue!

If you think I should re-write and re-post my FMA story "2012," do say so!

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man; it belongs to Katsura Hoshino.

* * *

October 1999

Present age of Nova Subject Recovery: Six years.

* * *

_"Welcome to Umbre Corporation. For the safety of our workers, please…"_

Cross listened to the old female voice echoing around him. The voice had played every time he entered the building, which, for the past six years, wasn't actually as often as it had been before the four Nova subjects came. He found that he'd begun spending more and more time in his lab or with Allen than he would at home.

As Cross swiped his card to enter his lab, he was startled by a small white blur dashing past him and into the large office.

"Hey doc!" came the familiar voice as Allen clambered up onto Cross's examination table. Cross couldn't help but smile at the boy's excited greeting.

"Hey, kid. How's it going today?" Cross asked, snapping gloves on and pulling out sheets of paper, files and a few vials filled with cloudy liquid, which came from the fridge on the counter.

"Y'know. I'm always fine," Allen insisted.

"Yeah, except for the times you get a paper cut," Cross said a bit sarcastically. Paper cuts weren't all that bad for Allen, as he only had mild type A Hemophilia, but what Bookman always warned Cross to keep an eye on was the mutation changing into a more serious form. Although it was very unlikely, it had happened before (at least according to Bookman).

Allen scowled. "That's not true, and you know it," he said with a snooty grin.

Cross noticed the stuffy tone in Allen's voice. "Do you have a cold or something?" he asked, lifting Allen's chin a bit to examine the complexion of his face. In doing so, he noticed the purple bruise that was like a smear of chalk on his face. "What happened there?" he said, running a thumb over the soft skin of the child's face.

"Oh, that? My door stuck this morning. When I got it open, it hit my face."

Cross scowled. "I could have sworn I'd asked Bertie to fix that..."

"Yeah, well, she didn't," Allen replied.

Cross shook his head, and began to fill a syringe with the cloudy liquid. "Some of my team was working with clotting factors. We're going to try this combination this week," Cross explained as he nicked the bubbles of oxygen to the top of the tube. Allen shied away at the sight of the needle. "Yeah, I know you don't like it, but you know it's not there to hurt you," Cross tried.

Allen growled in response. "If it's not there to hurt me, then why does it hurt?" he exclaimed, and Cross chuckled.

"That's just because you squirm so much," he replied, giving Allen the injection while the boy was unfocused. The kid didn't even notice, and continued ranting.

"I do not squirm! You just make me squirm so much. I happen to sit perfectly still until you start waving those doctor-things around! Anyways, are you gonna do it, or… oh…" Allen ended abruptly, noticing Cross dabbing a bit of a white powder on his arm. "You already did it, didn't you?" Allen deadpanned.

Cross smirked. "You betcha. I always tell you, if you don't pay attention to it, you won't notice it," he said, smoothing a bandage over the white clotting agent he'd applied beforehand.

Allen gave him a quality scowl. "You really get on my nerves sometimes, you know."

Cross ruffled the boy's hair. "Yeah, but it's my job to get on your nerves, kid."

Allen gave him a dry look and pushed some of the papers out of the way. He picked up a few of the files, and Cross, washing his now ungloved hands, gave him a sideways stare. "You know you're not allowed to read those, Allen," he said sternly, and Allen lowered them from where they were right in front of his face. "And where are your glasses?"

"They're in my room. And why can't I read them?" Allen whined.

"They're private to who they belong to, and I've not yet read them myself."

Allen sighed and put them down, sliding off of the table. "I'm gonna go get dressed, I'll be back later."

Cross nodded and waited until he heard the door close. He dried his hands and turned back to the table, proceeding to pick through the pile, pulling Allen's file out of the bottom.

He'd gone over the sequencing and karyotype time and time again, and every single time, the sequencing turned up something new, and the karyotype seemed a bit different.

Cross set the photos aside, and looked at the boy's medical history. Long, official-looking papers unfolded as he moved them around, and Cross didn't look at them. Allen's condition had thankfully gone from the worst to just bad, but it rarely showed any such improvement now. Cross rubbed his eyes, carefully refolded the paper, and picked through the remaining documents. His eyes fell on the most recent one.

**October 7**

**To the guardian of one Allen, also known/listed as Nova Subject 04:**

**As per the recommendation and request of the head director George J. Tenet of the CIA, by the time Allen is at least 16 years of age, he is to be legally sent away from Umbre Facility. He is to be taken in by a pre-assigned benefactor known as Neah Walker, and will be removed from the care of Umbre Corporation.**

**Should Mr. Walker request Allen's custody sooner, it is to be handed over with the prompt inspection of his present health, and an accompanying medical report.**

**The other Nova subjects—known as Lenalee, Kanda, and Lavi—are all to be removed for similar reasons.**

**Good day to you—**

**Head Investigator Malcom C. Rouvellier**

Cross rubbed his eyes again, put the paper down, and picked up a blank medical report. He filled it out; as he did, he thought back to that morning, right before he'd left home again.

"_Hello?" Cross answered his phone._

"_Yes. Mr.—no, Doctor Cross, yes? I am Neah Walker; I am the one who was contacted to be Allen's guardian. I was brought to believe that should I request his custody, it is mine, yes?"_

"…_Yes, Mr. Walker. Are you…?"_

"_Yes! I call to request the boy."_

Cross rested his head on his hand.

Allen was unaware that he was leaving his home.

There was a tentative tapping on the door, and Cross looked up to see Allen there again, this time dressed in day clothes, and with his glasses perched on his nose. His tangled white hair had been combed, and he bruise on his nose was somewhat drawn away by the orange of his t-shirt.

"Allen, come here," Cross said softly. The boy came over, giving Cross a thousand-watt smile. Cross couldn't help but smile a bit, but his thoughts made it vanish quickly.

"You know… you can't stay here forever, right?"

Allen's smile dimmed a bit. "Well… yeah. What are you talking about?"

"Well… there's a man who the government has given you to. Neah Walker is his name. He recently called, requesting that you go live with him immediately."

Allen's smile was gone. "W-why can't I just stay with you?" he asked. Cross caught the tremble in the boy's voice.

"Come here," Cross said, extending a hand to Allen. The little boy wrapped his pale, little fingers around Cross's big hand, and Cross drew him to his chest.

Allen didn't cry; he stood there in Cross's grasp, trembling and simply holding onto the thick white fabric of Cross's lab coat. The man's long red hair tickled his face.

"I don't want to leave… why can't I stay with you?"

"I'm sorry, Allen. It's not my decision to make."

There was another knock on the door, and Cross looked up. Komui stood there, face grin. "Walker's here, in the meeting room. I'll go and get Allen's things for you."

Cross felt something like rage bubble up, but it quickly morphed into a cloudy feeling swirling around and making his heart go cold. Allen, who was loathe to move, ended up being carried by Cross.

* * *

Neah Walker was a tall, tan man with dark brown hair and glowing gold eyes. When Cross entered and placed Allen on the chair, Neah gave the two of them a gleaming smile. "Doctor Cross, Allen! A pleasure to meet both of you."

Cross immediately disliked Neah. Nevertheless, he pulled out his professional mask and gently tousled Allen's white locks. "Yes, as I was asked, here is his full medical report. The commander is bringing up his belongings now."

Just as Cross promised, Komui entered shortly thereafter, balancing two bags and a suitcase. As soon as Komui set them down, Neah stood, and said quickly, "We might as well be going…"

Komui interjected. "Can you let Doctor Cross and Allen say their goodbyes, at least?"

Neah hesitated before nodding. "Quickly, though, I've got other appointments." He then left to put Allen's belongings with his car. Cross knelt and pressed a card with his number on it into Allen's hand. "Allen, I know as well as you do that this man seems very fishy. If you have _any _problems, call me, and I'll get you away from him." Allen gave the doctor a meek nod before being swept into a hug by him, which he gratefully returned. He then slipped the card into his pocket before following his guardian out of Umbre Facility for the last time.

Or so he thought….


	3. Chapter 1' The Call

A/N: So a lot of you are very, very curious as to whatever I'm planning for this.

Don't worry, I know what I'm doing XD

There has been a time skip of ten years, as the first two chapters were a prologue of sorts, a bit of background on the history of Allen and company. If you don't remember last chapter, the government sent Allen away from Umbre, as he was deemed 'physically fit enough to leave,' and he now lives with Neah. Neah's not who the government thinks he is, though, and now Allen wants out. Badly.

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man, it belongs to Katsura Hoshino.

* * *

Year: 2009

Nova Subject current recovery: 16 Years

The Human Genome Project has been completed and Umbre made a breakthrough in which Lavi, Lenalee, and Kanda now lead normal lives. Allen, who was taken by Neah at six years of age, still suffers from health issues related to his hemophilia and albinism. Living under Neah, Allen is now an unhappy teenager who constantly suffers at the hands of his adoptive father, who also happens to be heavily involved in illegal activity such as gang meetings, black market dealing, and drug selling…

* * *

_Klunk!_

Allen Walker walked slowly down the dirty back street in almost a daze. He'd just narrowly avoided a thrashing from one of Neah's goons. Presently, he was kicking a can along the uneven pavement, rubbing the swelling on his arm fervently.

Allen lowered the stiff limb and crept up the back steps of a large house, located in the ghetto of New York City. He pulled the door open and peeked into the large, air-conditioned kitchen it revealed, looking for the two men who'd tried to beat him up. There was nobody there; Allen breathed a sigh of relief and entered the house fully. He pulled some ice from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel, and pressed the makeshift icepack against the swollen limb.

Voices came from the hall. "…Mate, I looked for the stupid brat everywhere. He ain't here. Musta' run off."

"Did y'even check the house?"

"Nah, man, he ran outta here."

"Well, how's 'bout we look for 'em here?"

"Shit," Allen hissed, and he looked quickly back and forth. Frowning as he made up his mind, he yanked open the nearest cabinet—the one under the sink—shoved some bottles of cleaning supplies aside, and was suddenly incredibly grateful for his too-small frame. There was a click, and Allen's heart almost stopped beating in his chest. His breathing sounded incredibly loud to his ears.

The cabinet he was hiding in was jerked open, and one of the men—a member of Neah's gang—snatched him out, lifting him by the collar. Allen choked on the pressure of the fabric, and was dropped onto the tile floor.

He was very much aware of the scent of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol rolling off of the two men. Allen picked himself up and scrambled backwards. The one who'd tried to beat him up earlier knocked him over the head, saying something about him 'always pickin' a fight, or lookin' fer a beatin'', and stalked out of the door Allen had entered, growling at his companion.

As soon as they were gone, Allen jumped up, flew down the hall, up the stairs, and slammed the door to his room. He leaned against it and turned the lock. His bedroom was really the only place that he wasn't picked on, beaten, and didn't smell of cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, or a combination thereof. He was even safe from Neah in his room. It was very much his sanctuary.

Allen closed his eyes and sank down into a sitting position.

_I've had enough of this shit._

_I need to get out of here._

_If only I still had that card…_

By 'that card,' he meant the card that one of the doctors at Umbre had given him, ten years prior. Although he absolved to never lose it, as the doctor had indeed been correct about Neah seeming 'fishy,' Allen, being a disorganized teenager, had lost the card some time ago.

_It's been ten years of Hell._

_I can still try and get out, if I could only find the damn card._

…

_Where did I put it?_

Allen found that he didn't even remember the last time he'd seen it. He frowned, stalked over to his desk, which was pressed into the corner. He yanked a drawer open, and bits of paper fluttered around. Allen scraped all of the contents out of the drawer and dumped them on his bed.

* * *

He spent hours scouring all of the papers—old Biology and Math work from before he'd dropped out of high school, a few random doodles and poems, some old maps, and several hundred sheets of blank paper were all items found in the pile, but to his dismay, there were no cards. Sighing in defeat, Allen chucked the papers out of the window (which was missing its screen—he'd taken it off years ago to allow for easy access to the roof, which was where he'd sometimes go to think), and heard a shout of annoyance from someone down below. He ignored them and fell onto his bed, eyeing the open drawer.

In the back of it, a few more pieces of paper were stuck on the back panel. Allen felt his heart flutter, and he yanked the drawer out of its moorings and onto his lap. He peeled the pieces of paper off of where they'd stuck to the varnish.

There were two receipts, a folded scrap of paper, and…

A cream coloured rectangle.

Allen felt a spark of hope as he picked up the stiff card. He turned it over, and felt the spark explode into happiness—

UMBRE CORPORATION—Doctor Marian Cross

(202) 487-6543

_It may not even be his number anymore._

_He might not even __**work **__there anymore._

Allen shoved his doubts out of his mind and dug his phone out of a pile of books and pens on the nightstand. There were two texts—one from his high school friend Daisya, dated two hours previous, and one from his ex-girlfriend Lou Fa, dated a week ago. Allen ignored them and dialed in the number on the card, before lifting the phone to his ear.

The line was dead. Allen growled in frustration and tossed _that _at the wall, just barely missing the window. He stared at the company name on the car.

_Umbre Corporation._

_That's where I grew up. That's where I need to get._

_Idiot. The internet._

Allen smacked his forehead at his stupidity, and pulled his laptop from under the same pile of books and pens. The novels fell to the floor, but were easily ignored as Allen opened a Google window.

* * *

So, there were about a million and one different results for just searching "Umbre Corporation." Upon discovering that he was too lazy to look at those, he tacked on "Marian Cross." This narrowed the results to about nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine.

So, apparently, the doctor that had taken care of Allen for the first six years of his life was presently a rich and famous man who still worked there today. Why was he rich and famous? He was the one who had cracked the Human Genetic Code (_whatever the hell that is_) and had found cures for all kinds of new diseases.

Allen scoured the sites—he eventually stumbled across the corporation's own webpage—and tracked down three numbers.

The first one was the same number on Allen's card. _Why is that even still there?_

The second one was a general office number.

The third was a personal phone number. Allen stared at the black pixels on his screen before diving off of the mattress and grabbing his Mobiado (A/N: Google it. It's an expensive, fancy-lookin cell phone. Remember, as corrupt and dangerous as he is, as well as the relative location of the house, Neah is a very rich, very influential man. The government originally sent Allen there because they figured if anyone could take care of a high-maintenance kid, it would be a rich man. Little did they know that he was corrupt and only not in jail because he'd bribed people with money and had goons to do his dirty work). He punched in the number and held the phone to his ear again.

There was a dial tone.

* * *

Marian Cross was sitting at his desk, eating lunch, when the office phone quietly rang. He put down his sandwich and lifted the receiver. "Umbre Corporation. This is Doctor Cross speaking."

The voice that came from the other end of the line shocked him. It was a teenager who was calling. _"Doctor Cross? Um… It's Allen. From… like, ten years ago."_

Cross basically choked on the air. "Allen! It's been too long! Years. Ten to be exact."

"_Yeah… got that. Um. Listen. Please. I need help. I've needed help this whole time, really. Neah—"_

"I was right, wasn't I?" Cross asked, realization hitting him.

"…_Yeah. You were right. He's a bad man, Doc."_

"How bad, Allen?" Cross said, sternly.

"_It's not just that he smokes and drinks. We live in the ghetto of NYC. He's got his own gang, and he controls most of the others—at least, he's got guys in most of the others. He deals drugs. He uses drugs. He's always buying and selling… illegal things on the black market. His goons beat me up, sometimes he beats me up, and…"_

"Allen, that's already enough. Neah does all of that? Under the government's nose?"

"_Yeah. He's got good connections. Bribes the judges, bribes the cops, and gets all of his goons to do his dirty work."_

"Allen, I'll call you back later. I'll do what I can to get you out of there," Cross said quickly. He heard a loud banging from the other side of the line, and a muted shout.

"_Oi, brat, the boss said he wanted to see 'ya. Get your ass outta there."_

"_Shit, I've gotta run anyways. If I don't answer later… just come find me, I guess. You can ask anyone for the Walker residence. It's kinda hard to be here and not know of it."_

"Okay, yeah. Bye, kid," Cross said. The phone on the other end of the line cut, and Cross replaced his phone, stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, and shut the three files on his desk. He then hurried out of the office to find Komui…


	4. Chapter 2

Umbre Chapter 2: The Big Apple… and the Richest Man Here?

A/N: Heh, another update :D I'm getting into this story really well. I like the modern AU's. Although I guess 2009 isn't 2012 modern. It's still the 2000s. So I guess it counts. It'll get to 2012 eventually, anyways.

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man; it's owned by Katsura Hoshino.

* * *

Cross had dashed into Komui's office with an urgency that Komui hadn't seen him with since 2003, when Cross cracked the Human Genome. After that, in 2006, Lenalee, Kanda, and Lavi had all three been sent away to live with different families, but they were kept in close contact with the adults who had taken care of them for the first parts of their lives. All of them, except for Nova Subject 04, presently known as Allen Walker. Cross had explained in a rush what Allen had called and told him, and Komui had alerted some officials to the location of the New York crime boss. The FBI contacted the NYPD, who had reported that they were launching investigation. Komui told Cross that he could call Allen back.

Cross flipped through his caller ID, missing the New York number twice. When the phone finally answered, he was met with a voice message. Cross swore to himself, left a quick message, and headed back to Komui. "I'm clocking out for the day. Heading up to New York. Allen said if he didn't answer when I called him back, to go find him…."

Komui looked up from his paperwork. "That's fine. I'd go too if I didn't have so much work to do…"

"As is the life of the college-age prodigy."

Komui huffed, waved Cross out the door, and went back to his papers.

* * *

The drive from the District of Columbia to New York, New York took Cross four hours. By the time he got there, he figured he'd follow Allen's advice and search for someone who knew the Walker residence. He waved down a woman who was wearing an important-looking suit, and who had gawked when the somewhat famous scientist walked up to her. "Ma'am, would you happen to know the location of the Walker residence?"

The woman paled a bit, but said simply, "Harlem. Biggest, nicest house there. You can't miss it."

Two other answers said the same. "Biggest house in Harlem." A shy-looking teenager said, "The guy who owns it seems to be very rich, which is weird, since he chose to live in Harlem. He gets along fine, though… there's never any cops over there, that is."

A few NYPD officials drove by, and they came to a smooth halt beside Cross, who was at the moment making his way to Harlem. "Doctor Cross?" One of the men said, and Cross nodded.

"We were down at the Walker residence. There's definitely members of several gangs hanging around there—we've got them all on record. Walker wouldn't open the door, though, and apparently Allen had run off. We're looking for him now."

* * *

_Shit._

This was **not **good.

This was **really not **good.

Allen pressed the sleeve of his sweater against his wrist.

Allen knew to stay away from Neah when his foster 'father' was drunk, high, or both. When Neah requested to see Allen, the boy hadn't had any idea that the man was in fact quite inebriated. Neah tended to get… violent… when he was both mad and drunk.

"_Allen. M'boy. How… have __**you**__been."_

_Allen didn't answer until he was poked in the back by the gang member behind him._

"_I'm fine," Allen growled._

"_Hey, hey. What's with that… __**tone **__of yours."_

"_What tone."_

"_That one. The __**annoyed **__one."_

"_Maybe I'm annoyed."_

…_Neah was silent._

"_**So.**__ Y'wanna tell me what you were doing calling down to D.C. earlier?"_

"…_How did you know I called down there," Allen said, terror rushing through his system. _

"_Allen. I've got eyes and ears __**everywhere. **__And anyways. You weren't very inconspicuous about it." With that, the goon behind Allen pulled out the black Mobiado and tossed it to Neah. _

"_I believe this is yours, right?"_

_Allen was only able to nod weakly._

"_So what exactly __**were **__you telling the government about me? Hm?_

"_Did you reveal who I was to them?"_

_Allen didn't move, he didn't speak._

_If he spoke, he was a dead man. If he moved, Neah might hit him._

"_Answer me!"_

_Allen stood still and silent._

_Neah stood, growling, and grabbed Allen's arm. The teen cried out in shock, and then in pain as the stronger man's fist closed around the large bruise from earlier that day. _

"…_Not so silent now, are we?" Neah said smugly, and Allen glared at him from under his bangs._

"_I hate you," was all Allen said. Neah's liquid golden eyes stared back uncaringly at his charge._

_Neah then proceeded to bend his arm back. The further it went, the more it hurt. "You __**will **__tell me what you said about me."_

"_Who said I said anything about you!"_

"_You don't know __**anyone **__in D.C.. Why would you call there!"_

_Allen didn't say anything. Neah grew frustrated. _

_Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. "Neah Walker!" They sounded suspiciously like police. _

_Neah growled in frustration, twisted Allen's arm so severely that the shoulder popped out of its joint, and let Allen go. The teen fled, his injured arm hanging by his side. "Should we… y'know, follow 'em?" someone asked._

"_No. He won't be worth it. If he said anything, then we're done for, anyways."_

Allen hissed in pain and gripped his arm, resting limply in his own grasp, before he leaned against one of the close brick walls in the dim alley he'd run to (A/N: I am a proud writer of the 'dark alleyway' cliché!). He slid down, feeling the bricks and their mortar gripping the back of his shirt as he sank down into the filth that lined the alley. As disgusting as he usually found it, he didn't pay any attention to it.

A few police officers walked by, talking into their radios, when one looked over and spotted Allen. "'Scuse me, have you seen a teenager running around here, with white hair? We've been looking for one Allen Walker at the request of Umbre Corporation…" Allen let his head turn.

"I think you've been looking for me, then," Allen said. The officers looked at him, and Allen yanked down his hood, revealing his snow-white hair.

The officers pulled him out of the alley, and frowned when they saw his arm. "Who did that to you?"

Allen winced, feeling the pain come back to his shoulder when it was jerked so roughly. "Neah did. He should still be there, at the house. He was drunk, so I doubt he got far even if he left."

The officers nodded, one began to speak into his radio, and the other began to lead Allen in the rough direction of Central Park. "When we clear out Neah and his gang, we'll get your things. For now, though, you are to be immediately transported to Central Park, and are going into the custody of Doctor Cross. Do you know him?"

"Yeah, he raised me for the first six years of my life," Allen said.

The officer looked at him. "Are you related? You don't look like it."

"No, we're not related. I was a test subject that was rescued by Umbre Corporation. There were four of us. Cross took care of me. That's all I really remember."

The officer looked somewhat confused, but was satisfied enough with the answer that he let the subject go. "We've got to get that shoulder fixed, too. I guess Doctor Cross could look at it—he is a doctor, after all, and did have to go through partial medical courses to become who he is today."

Allen nodded weakly, still following the NYPD officer.

* * *

The first thing that Allen noticed brought tears to his silver eyes. Doctor Cross, the man who had taken care of him for the first part of his life—in fact, the only person to ever actually take care of Allen—stood in the shade of a large oak. His hair was still long, and the same rich shade of red, and he was still tall, lean, and strong-looking. His strength was somewhat muted by the ever-present glasses that had always rested on his nose, and the white lab coat that was pulled over a blue polo.

The second thing that Allen noticed as he and the NYPD officer approached was that where Cross stood, a bit off of a side road, was a large, standard-issue FBI GMC vehicle, in the same shade of black that Allen had always seen on crime television shows. There were two important-looking men wearing three-piece suits leaning against the side, holding quiet conversation with Cross.

One of them, a man with a shiny bald head, looked over and saw Allen. He said something, waved, and he and his companion hurried over. "Officer, we'll take over from here. Thank you for finding him so quickly," the bald one said. They then proceeded to lead—well, rather, gently drag—Allen away from his position in front of the officer.

"His shoulder's hurt, by the way. Said it was his foster father."

The other agent nodded sharply before he continued to pull Allen along.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Cross and Allen see each other for the first time in ten years. How's it gonna go?


End file.
